


She's On Your Mind

by c00kie



Series: Tales From the Kink Meme [2]
Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Coda, F/M, Light Angst, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 10:01:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c00kie/pseuds/c00kie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben masturbates to Leslie. Takes place around <i>Freddy Spaghetti</i>. Title from Over My Head by the Fray</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's On Your Mind

All Ben wants to do is go to back to his room at the Pawnee Super Suites, take a shower, jack one off to release some of the tension he’s feeling and go to sleep. What he doesn't want to do is think about Leslie Knope while he does it.

For one thing, she’s a pain in the ass and keeps sending him emails upon emails, each one more insulting than the last. For another, she’s not even his type. Blonde hair has never done anything for him before, even if it is shiny and looks soft to the touch. And he’s always prefered women with longer legs than Leslie, who’s so tiny he could probably pick her up and press her up against a wall and dive into her like it was nothing. He closes his fist around his cock, squeezing his shaft while he tries to get the image of screwing Leslie out of his mind.

But all imaginary Leslie does is glare at him. And really, the image, which is more of a memory, should be enough to turn him off and allow him to think about someone else, but it doesn't. It just makes him wonder if the passion she shows for her work translates into the bedroom. It has to.

She’d probably push him onto the bed- he circles the head of his cock with his thumb, spreading the precome- and straddle him- he spits it his hand and runs it over his shaft, using just enough pressure- and she’d impale herself on him, her fingers digging into his chest- he pumps his hand, rolling up over the head and back down again, eyes closed and focused, not on the action, but on the fantasy.

He’d roll her over, would kiss her until she was breathless, then he’d bite kisses into her skin, all down her neck and her collarbone, then he’d make his way down to her breasts, would lick and suck and squeeze until they were red and covered with his spit.

He loosens his grip, lazily sweeping his hand up and down his shaft while he thinks about Leslie’s boobs, and her voice, begging him for more.

No. Leslie would never beg, not even the one in his head. She’d push his head down, tell him to make her come his mouth. And he’d go, willingly, wanting to see Leslie come undone because of him. He’d kiss her inner thigh, run his tongue up and down her mound, he’d be slow and wouldn’t give her what she wanted just yet- the thought makes him increase his speed- then she’d push his head in and he’d go to town, eat her out like she was a juicy peach and he wanted to make sure he didn't miss a single drop of juice. 

He’d fuck her with his tongue and she’d pull on his hair, would say his name with panting breaths. She’d wrap her legs around his neck, trapping him, but he’d just keep his mouth against her, sucking on her clit, focused completely on her smell and taste, as well as her reactions.

He whimpers, just a little, at the thought, his cock now bright purple and throbbing, precome leaking from the tip. He rolls his thumb over it, shudders.  
She’d grab his hair and pull his face up, and he’d grin at her, dripping with her. He’d swipe his face and would lick his fingers off.

Then he’d sit on his knees and take those same fingers and push them into her. Her hips would buck and she’d pull on the sheets when he found her G-spot. But that wouldn't be enough, for either of them. No, she would demand his cock, and he’d give it to her. Ben would push into her, slide in so easy and she’d squeeze him like a vice, feeling nothing but wet friction. He’d press his body against hers, revel in the contrast of soft versus hard.

His balls tighten and he increases his grip and speed, feeling that same friction he wishes he could feel by being inside Leslie.

It’s only when he comes, hot and white all over the wall of his shower that he comes back to reality and remembers that he doesn't desire Leslie Knope. Okay, maybe there’s a little bit of desire there, but it’s the same kind of desire he felt for Janie Mortenson in college. She was passionate and argued with him over every single thing they did for their group projects, and he never liked her as a person, but it never stopped him from thinking about fucking him while he jacked off.

So of course he thinks it’s the same with Leslie, even when he buys Freddy Spaghetti for her, even when he watches her rally her troops and suggest the Harvest Fest. No, it’s seeing her sick and delirious, but still managing to give a speech to the business owners of Pawnee that gets a hundred and twelve (and counting) to agree to participate in the festival that pushes him over the edge. It’s no longer a slight attraction, but something far more threatening.

It’s safe to say he’s pretty much doomed.


End file.
